


Apodictic

by devotchka



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: D/s, Fear Play, Gun Kink, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Power Exchange, Topping from the Bottom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-17
Updated: 2020-07-17
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:26:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25321612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/devotchka/pseuds/devotchka
Summary: Gladio drags Prompto along camping, and then makes up for it.
Relationships: Gladiolus Amicitia/Prompto Argentum
Comments: 1
Kudos: 43





	Apodictic

**Author's Note:**

> This is super self indulgent PWP. I’m just in love with dominant Prompto these days.

It starts with a simple camping trip.

Gladio’s thinking about that, and about every step of the way from there to here, as he stands pushed up against some random tree in the middle of the forest, the tip of a pistol pressing firm against his chest.

Gladio looks down at Prompto holding the weapon there, and he thinks about how tiny he is. He thinks about how it doesn’t matter that Prompto barely comes up to his chest when he’s so dangerous either way.

He instinctively raises his hands at the sound of the pistol’s safety mechanism disengaging.

“Do you know how far we are from civilization, Gladio?” Prompto asks. There’s a new look in his eyes, a new tone to his voice - something that he's been missing until now. Gladio recognizes just what it is.

He shakes his head no. Really, he doesn’t pay attention to those things.

“The last building I saw was almost twenty miles out.” Prompto replies. His free hand pushes Gladio back against solid wood, grabbing at his chest and keeping him pinned.

Gladio’s heart skips a beat at that. He wonders just what Prompto plans on doing, and he has a lot of ideas about it.

He doesn’t challenge Prompto’s dominance – not with a gun at his chest, pressed right up against his heart.

“No one else is around.” Prompto explains. His free hand begins to trail lower, exploring down past Gladio’s ribcage. “It’s just you and me.”

Gladio thinks of the implications – no one around to hear him, no one around to make this stop – and he takes a shaky breath. He tries to hide the deep, steady pulls of his chest. Prompto’s too distracted to really notice, his fingers trailing along Gladio’s abs, and then lower.

Gladio goes from half hard to aching the moment Prompto cups him through his jeans. He rubs his palm there, and Gladio can hear himself breathing hard, can feel Prompto’s fingers so gently dragging along the length of his cock.

“Already?” Prompto asks. “Gladio. Does this _really_ get you off?”

 _Yes_ , Gladio thinks, but they’re playing a game right now, and he abides by the rules. “I don’t like guns pointed at me.”

“Oh, really? What else are you afraid of?” Prompto teases. Gladio sees a smile grace his lips, and, for a second, he considers just ignoring all their pretenses and grabbing him, suddenly needing to taste him, needing closeness.

He doesn’t answer the question. Prompto moves on. “Get on the ground.”

Wordlessly, Gladio obeys. They’ve played this game before; he knows what comes with defiance. He lets himself sink to the cold, damp, forest floor, first on his knees, and then eventually onto his back. It smells like leaves and rainwater down here, and he knows that he’ll be filthy by the time Prompto is done with him. He genuinely does not mind.

Prompto drops down onto his lap, moving to straddle him. The gun points closer to his face like this, as he's sure they both know.

“Put your hands up by your head where I can see them.”

Gladio obeys.

Prompto is warm and solid above him, gun aimed right along Gladio’s jawline where he can’t see it, forcing his head to tip back just slightly.

He can feel Prompto shifting his weight around, can hear the metallic clink of his belt coming undone, and eventually he’s seated in Gladio’s lap again, pants tugged down past his thighs.

His free hand reaches up, and he cups the side of Gladio’s face, and Gladio has to hide the way his breath hitches in response.

“I’ve wanted you for so long, Gladio. You have no idea.” Prompto muses. Two of his fingers brush along Gladio’s mouth. They push past his lips, and press against his tongue. “It’s going to feel so good to finally take you.”

He almost moans against Prompto’s fingers.

“Lick these for me.” Prompto instructs, and Gladio wordlessly obeys.

He thinks he’s quietest in these moments, looking for instruction and unused to being the one in submission. He thinks that Prompto is the only person who’s ever demanded compliance in this way. He thinks that some part of himself lives for this exchange, for the helplessness, for the chance to know that – even in the face of danger – someone else is capable of taking care of him.

Prompto takes his fingers back, and Gladio watches them slip in between his legs. Prompto moves with ease, and Gladio can barely see it but he knows he's breaching himself, his fingers beginning to press in deep and insistent and just the way he likes. He listens as Prompto moans for it.

Prompto works in smooth, gentle thrusts, first one finger and then two. He knows how badly Gladio wants him, and he makes a show of touching himself.

Gladio’s very much aware of his own hands, and how they’re stuck at his sides, and how Prompto’s gun digs into his skin as a reminder. He’s aware of just who is in control.

“You look so good like this.” Prompto moans, and Gladio knows he’s talking about this gun kink he has, about how much he likes him with cold metal in his face.

Gladio likes it, too.

“You don’t know how nice this is – how _good_ it feels.”

Prompto’s hips are rocking as he fucks himself, brushing against where Gladio is hard and aching, keeping him wanting.

“I’m warm inside, and tight. You’ll like this.”

He knows exactly what Prompto feels like. It takes everything Gladio has not to beg for it. Then Prompto’s taking his fingers out, and focusing more on him, and as his hand presses against the seat of Gladio’s jeans he desperately wants to arch into his touch.

“Please-“ He says, just barely above a whisper.

“Please what?” Prompto replies. “Please don’t?”

He doesn’t correct him, doesn’t say anything. He knows what Prompto wants. He wants him to beg him not to do it, to stop, to put the gun away, but Gladio is stubborn and a part of him just can’t cave in like that, no matter how much he sometimes wants to.

The best he can do is ambiguity.

“Oh, Gladio. You never should’ve dragged me out here.”

Gladio vehemently disagrees.

Prompto’s hands work past the buttons and zipper of Gladio’s jeans with practiced ease, tugging them open just enough for him to slip his hand inside. Gladio struggles not to buck into his touch, laying still like he was told to.

Prompto touches around, stroking him from the base of his cock upward until his thumb brushes against the head, spreading wetness around and gripping just a little bit tighter. Gladio watches as Prompto strokes him almost absentmindedly. He listens as Prompto points out how big it feels, how much he’s going to enjoy bouncing around on it.

And then he’s freeing Gladio’s cock, and he’s propping himself up above it, and all Gladio can do with a pistol pointed in his face is continue to watch as it all happens.

Prompto sinks down on his cock with an unashamed moan, his head tipping back and his hips rolling into the motion. He keeps his pistol trained on Gladio as he sets a fast, selfish pace.

And he was right about how good he would feel. He’s hot inside, squeezing down tight around Gladio’s cock like his fingers barely did anything earlier, and Gladio isn’t sure how long he’s going to last like this. Prompto looks so good bouncing in his lap like this, gun in his hand, confident as hell.

He can’t help it. He moans.

Prompto looks down at him like he owns him. “I knew you’d like this.”

He’s right. He’s always right. A part of Gladio is almost humiliated by his own neediness, but with Prompto rocking his hips in that way he does it’s hard to stay guilty.

“You feel so good.” Prompto gasps, and his pistol digs into Gladio’s cheek.

Gladio doesn’t think there’s a more attractive sight in the world. Between the gun pushing at him and the way Prompto’s insides squeeze tighter and tighter, he doesn’t feel like this is going to last long at all.

“Prompto, I-“

“Don’t come yet. Don’t come, or I’ll hurt you.”

He doesn’t slow down, and Gladio doesn’t question or complain. All of his effort goes into holding out until Prompto is done.

Prompto leans down close and presses his mouth against the side of Gladio’s face, right beside the gun. He kisses further inward, and then again along the corner of Gladio’s mouth.

Gladio can't pretend anymore once Prompto finally kisses him, and he returns the gesture with all of his bottled up urgency.

To his surprise, Prompto doesn’t complain. He moans into it, grabbing at his shirt with his free hand and tugging him in closer, and Gladio dares to move his hands.

He cups Prompto’s face. He touches along his hips and his waist. He pushes against Prompto’s thighs, forcing him to take his cock even deeper.

That’s what does it for him. He feels Prompto tremble, his legs spreading even further, another moan catching in his throat. “ _Fuck_ , Gladio, right there, don’t stop.”

Prompto holds onto Gladio with one hand, interlocking their fingers where Gladio’s holding his legs, and he still maintains his hold on his gun with the other.

Gladio likes the danger.

Prompto angles his hips just slightly and a moment later he’s coming, throwing his head back and moaning, and Gladio is immediately overwhelmed by how difficult it’s been to hold out for him.

“Come in me.” Prompto moans, and that’s the last thing Gladio can handle.

He slams Prompto down hard, holding him in place by his thighs as he lets go, coming as deep in him as he can manage, and Prompto whimpers against the rough treatment.

Then they’re kissing again, needy and close, and Gladio’s wrapping his arms around Prompto and pulling him in against his chest.

He can hear Prompto breathing hard in between each kiss, exhausted, and Gladio is looking forward to getting back to their tent for a nice, long nap.

“Camping’s not as bad as I thought.” Prompto points out, pulling away from him. He probably (definitely) is talking about the isolation, and the ways in which he can use it.

“We’ll have to go more often.” Gladio agrees.


End file.
